Keep Driving. Tauqir.
We knew each other from the Squeeze Club. We both played on the Squeeze Club soft ball team. He was pretty good. Took it a little more seriously than I did. Didn't show his ass as much.
He took me on as a friend and a project. He would drag me out of the house, not screaming, just protesting and make me go to a party or a club. Or something. He convinced me not to wear running shoes at night.
He was fighting his way as a standup comedian. But since he wasn't funny, just joking, he went and sold roties on the street. Sometimes selling my cookies too.
Many people worked somehow in the film industry in Toronto. At least the people in the area I lived in. And he did too. Then he took courses and worked his way up the long greasy latter of the industry. To become a camera man.
And that's what he is now. Or does. He also is the master in the Kitchen. Not a dessert master like your narrator here, Indian dishes.
The other good thing is, camera men aren't always the easiest people to direct. Tauqir is used to me telling him what to do. At least he can take it when I do.
Just keep driving.
He's also a good driver.
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